Page 44 of The Academy
There’s no one else in the library, or so Charley believes until shepasses the Senior Sofa on the second-floor landing and sees a girl lying across it, eyes closed, arms crossed over her chest like a corpse in a coffin.
Am I in a Wes Anderson film?Charley wonders. The corpse is Ravenna Rapsicoli.
“Hey?” Charley says, though she means to say,HEY!
Ravenna opens her eyes. She looks as miserable as Charley feels, but Charley won’t let that distract her. “You put my byline on the In and Out list,” she says. “You have to send a retraction, like, right now. Email everyone. People think I’m claiming orgasms are In! People are going to think I’m scheming”—Charley swallows East’s name; she will not say it—“a fifth-form repeat.”
Ravenna blinks. “I was trying to help you. You have this whole librarian-core thing going and I’m sorry, but people think you’re a freak. The In and Out list is cool, it’s funny. It’ll make everyone reconsider their opinion of you. They won’t believe you wrote it…”
“Because Ididn’twrite it!” Charley hisses.
“But youarecool and funny,” Ravenna says. “Better than funny—witty.”
Charley refuses to be won over. “Bullshit,” she says. “You wanted to print something people would talk about, and since we didn’t have any items forPage 114,you turned me into clickbait. Vodka Red Bulls? I don’t drink Red Bull, much less vodka. Print a retraction, Ravenna.”
Suddenly, Ravenna starts to cry, and Charley would like to snidely remind Ravenna that crying is Out—but then she wonders why Ravenna is alone on the Senior Sofa when she should be at the reception.
“What are you doing here?” Charley asks. “Where are your parents?”
“They didn’t come,” Ravenna says, wiping at her tears. “I have abrother who’s a fourth-former at Pomfret and it’s his Family Weekend as well.”
“But you’re a senior.”
Ravenna grimaces, and what can Charley think but that the elder Rapsicolis are like characters fromThe Godfather—her father is obsessed with the son and the bloodline; her mother has been silenced with gifts of furs and diamonds.
“They chose Dante,” Ravenna says.
Charley wishes there were something she could say, but of course there isn’t. If there was more room on the sofa, and if the sofa wasn’t strictly for seniors only, Charley would lie down next to Ravenna.
Charley’s phone buzzes. Her mother:I’m at the Paddock.
Charley looks at Ravenna and almost mentions the retraction one more time, but Ravenna has closed her eyes and Charley decides to let it be. They both have bigger things to worry about.
At the welcome reception, Davi leaves her parents and Saylem (introduced as “our creative director”) talking to Ms. Robbie and fixes herself a plate. She smears golden crostini with creamy brie, then takes a scoop of hot artichoke dip, a handful of pita chips, a few coins of Italian salami, and a couple of crab cakes, which she dollops with mustard sauce before devouring the finger sandwiches: two cucumber, two egg salad, three pimento cheese. She plucks a coconut shrimp off a tray, drags it through sweet and sour sauce, and pops it in her mouth. Delicious.
Mrs. Spooner appears at Davi’s elbow. “I’m envious,” she says, eyeing Davi’s plate. “You can eat whatever you want and still stay so thin.”
Davi struggles to keep her expression neutral. People have been saying this, or similar, the entire time she’s been at Tiffin. She hasbeen celebrated, not for having a healthy appetite, but for having a healthy appetite and staying thin. If she were plump (like Mrs. Spooner or like Olivia H-T), people would look at her plate and frown. Davi wants to ask Mrs. Spooner if she would make that same comment to Dub Austin. Of course she wouldn’t. Boys can eat whatever they want and look however they want.
But this reception is neither the time nor the place to engage in a debate about food, gender, and body image. Davi just wants to stuff her face. She gives Mrs. Spooner a conspiratorial smile and wink as if to say,Yes, I know. I’m SO lucky.She hoovers everything on her plate, then checks on her parents. Her mother is gone (probably at the bar) so Ms. Robbie talks only to Davi’s father and Saylem. Is Ms. Robbie wondering why the hell her parents brought their “creative director” to Family Weekend?
Davi sets her plate down and leaves the tent. A third-former enters with her parents in tow. She gives Davi a timid smile and nudges her mother. As soon as Davi passes by, she hears the girl whisper, “That’s Davi Banerjee, the influencer. She’s a queen.”
Not a queen,Davi thinks as she hurries down the path before cutting into the Sink. She was a queen, maybe, this time last year. Davi’s TikTok had gone viral; she was pursued by everyone from Kylie Jenner to Anthropologie. She remembers how hyped she and Cinnamon were when Anthropologie delivered a full-length Luisa mirror to Davi’s dorm room for free.
The internet realizes that influencers aren’t always what they seem. However, Davi is hiding some awfully big things. For starters, heregregious(“notable for a negative reason”) verbal score on the PSAT. (Posting her score might have brought awareness to people who don’t “test well,” but Davi doesn’t want anyone questioning her intelligence.)
Then Cinnamon died and Davi went dark, claiming the need for a “social media cleanse.” (Posting about Cinnamon might have beenan opportunity to highlight mental health issues, but Davi needed to respect the privacy of Cinnamon’s family.)
Davi spent a quiet summer at her parents’ villa in Tuscany, where she sat by the pool; practiced her Italian by flirting with Paolo, the eighteen-year-old who tended their olive trees; walked to the Piazza Grande with her father for an afternoon espresso; and took pasta-making classes with her mother. All of it was hashtag wholesome—and Davi enjoyed keeping it private.
She resurfaced on Instagram and TikTok at the end of the summer when she documented a weekend trip to Ibiza with her European friends. It was a whirlwind of champagne, clubs, dancing, and three outfits a day, but what Davi’s followers didn’t hear about was herennui(“boredom”). At sixteen, she was already world-weary.
And there wasno wayDavi would ever reveal what she discovered when she returned to London to pack for school and finish her summer reading.
Namely, both her parents in bed with Saylem.
Davi bursts into the third-floor bathroom of the Sink and sticks her finger down her throat. As her food comes back up, she replays her parents’ explanation: They’re polyamorous. Saylem—some randomAmerican,fromCincinnati,who got a summer jobinterning at the British Museum—is now their girlfriend and should be treated with respect.
